


Sous le ciel de Paris

by tothestarsanddreamers



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Feyre Archeron, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, insta-love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothestarsanddreamers/pseuds/tothestarsanddreamers
Summary: Feyre is lonely in Paris until she meets Rhys at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Things get interesting.aka tooth-rotting feysand fluff in the City of Love.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	Sous le ciel de Paris

**Author's Note:**

> If someone comes up to you DO NOT invite them to walk around Paris with you. Not even if they look like Rhys ;)
> 
> (title from Sous le ciel de Paris- Édith Piaf)

Feyre feels like an idiot. She finally achieved her dream of going to Paris and visiting the Eiffel Tower. She should be jumping for joy over seeing the Arc De Triomphe or eating macarons at the cute little bakery near her hotel. Instead, all she feels is lonely. 

When she used to dream about visiting Paris as a little girl it was always with the most handsome person in the world which, for 8 year old Feyre, was Tamlin. _How times have changed._ She broke up with Tamlin a year ago and decided it would be the ultimate power move to visit her dream city alone to prove to everyone that she doesn’t need a man. Finally after a year, she had saved enough money to do just that. The only problem is that, well, _she does need a man._ Just for one particular dream, though. Getting a photo kissing someone with the Eiffel Tower in the background has been on her bucket list forever. 

Instead, she is standing at the summit, alone, and looking at the most incredible city in the world. She stairs through the metal fencing at the beautiful buildings and intricate pattern of roads that stretch as far as her eyes can see. This city is literally every artist's dream and the sights raise her spirits slightly despite the depressing mood that has followed her around Paris for the past week. As she stares into the distance, someone comes up beside her. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” the voice says raising one tanned hand out in front. 

She turns to look at him and her words get stuck in her throat. She is standing face to face with the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Ever. It takes her embarrassingly long to find her voice and when she does, it’s breathless. “Yeah, uh, standing here has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I think I have seen every picture people have taken from this spot and yet the city still exceeds my expectations.”

Her stranger chuckles quietly. “I remember the first time I came here. I think I stood in that spot you’re standing in and stood gaping for about 10 minutes. My friends like to say that it’s the longest I’ve ever been quiet but they're idiots who can’t be trusted.” 

He smiles widely and even that completely normal act brings a flush to her cheeks. This man holds too much power with his smiles. And those crushing blue eyes. And the smirk that graces his full lips. Basically, his whole face should be illegal. She wants to stare at it forever. 

Instead, she says “I’m feyre.”

“Rhys.” 

“What brings you to Paris?”

“It’s the greatest city on earth, why should I deny myself the desire to see it?” He replies.

Feyre laughs and immediately checks him out again. This time, without getting distracted by his attractiveness. Or she tries to at least. His white dress shirt is definitely Armani, something she knows from spending time in the vicinity of the wealthy. She would bet his slacks are too and the loafers on his feet scream money. This guy is definitely rich so why is he talking to her? With her hand me down ripped jeans and the coat she has had since she was 16, she is the complete opposite of him. 

“Not all of us are that lucky. This is a once in a lifetime trip for me.” She tries to keep the bitterness out of her tone but, from the small frown touching his lips, she doesn’t think she has succeeded. 

“I suppose not. I’m very lucky in that regard although if you ever want to come back here you can always give me a call.” He says with a wink and Feyre genuinely can’t tell if he is serious, joking or flirting. 

She decides on option 3 and figures she’s got nothing better to do than flirt with insanely attractive men on top of the Eiffel Tower. “Ah, but I don’t even have your number.”

“Maybe we’ll have to fix that.” He replies, voice smooth like honey. 

“Maybe we will.” 

He stares at her with a twinkle in his eye before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocks it and hands it to her as if she isn’t some stranger he just met 10 seconds ago. 

“Wow, thieves must _really_ love you,” she laughed. “They probably don’t need to even do anything, you just hand them your belongings and ask them if they want anything else.”

He laughs at that and Feyre melts into a puddle on the floor. “What can I say? I’m generous. Now, put your number in there, please, because it would be a travesty if I never got to hear you make fun of me again. How long are you in Paris?”

“I’ve got another week left before I have to go home.”

“Perfect. Would you like to go out with me one night?”

That startles her but she manages to control her reaction. Freaking out is probably not the greatest way to flirt. “I would love to. You know, I was going to check out this place not far from here tonight, if you want to come.” 

He’s silent for what may as well be hours and mortification slams into her. He was probably only being nice and didn't actually want to go out with her. I mean, why would he? She’s nobody. She opens her mouth to backtrack but Rhys beats her to it.

“I’d love to. Do you want to leave now or do you have more sightseeing to do?”

His easy going smile and calm attitude soothes the nerves that were sending her into a spiral and she finds herself smiling back just as brightly. The look on Rhys’ face makes her want to hide from his piercing eyes. The mix of awe and hunger there leaves her breathless and she feels her cheeks heat up. Wasn’t she supposed to answer something just now? 

He reaches out and pushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. “You’re stunning.”

Feyre feels like she’s dying. Is there oxygen at this altitude? She’s no longer sure. Instead of replying to _that_ she, with as much strength as she can muster, says “Let’s go now.”

He holds out his palm and she gently places her hand in his before guiding them to the lift that will take them to the ground where maybe there is oxygen. 

The ride down happens in silence and they are pushed against the walls as the lift is packed tight. Still, Rhys doesn’t let go of her hand and a spark ignites in her chest at that. When they finally reach the bottom, Feyre pulls out her phone and tells Rhys the name before opening google maps for directions. 

Instantly, Rhys plucks her phone out her hand and says they don’t need google maps, he knows the way. She makes a snide remark about how maybe he’s the thief in this situation but he only sticks his tongue out at her before dragging her away from the huge queues. 

When they turn onto a new avenue, Feyre realises that this is the spot. This is the spot where she dreamed she’d get her iconic picture under the Eiffel Tower. The thought that it’ll never happen sours her mood and slows her steps. 

When Rhys turns to look at what slowed her down, he sees her frown and stops immediately. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind about getting dinner? It’s totally cool- we can do it another night. Or never, if you want. Just say the word.”

The thought that he is nervous about their date makes her smile and she feels compelled to tell the truth. When she explains the significance of the spot, the smile drops off of her face but Rhys’ transforms into one of mischief.

“Why can’t you get that kiss? You’re at the spot now, with an incredibly handsome gentleman, if I do say so myself-” She rolls her eyes at that “-and any passerby could take the photo. So really what’s the excuse?”

“You want to kiss before the first date?” She mock-gasps. “How dare you!”

He nods solemnly. “Usually, I would wait until marriage but I can make a special exception for you. Kissing me is your dream after all.”

“Prick.” She says goodnaturedly. Somehow messing with each other comes naturally to both of them and they know not to take offence. 

They both burst out laughing at their completely unamusing and yet somehow hysterical joke. It attracts the eye of some people walking by which is perfect because they need someone to take the photo anyway. 

Once the photographer is set up, they stand by the wall and stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. The photographer and even the Eiffel Tower disappear as they stare into each other's eyes. Feyre tries to ignore the butterflies that take flight in her stomach as one hand comes to rest on her cheek while the other settles at her waist.

Rhys whispers something that sounds like ‘perfect’ and then he presses his lips against hers and the butterflies multiply until they are everywhere. The soft pressure of his lips is heavenly. She feels the furious beat of his heart against her palm as she lifts it to rest on his chest. _I never want the moment to end_ , she thinks, but eventually they both pull away and rest their foreheads together. 

Their peaceful moment is interrupted as the elderly french man they made their photographer coughs a couple of feet away and holds out Feyre’s phone. She had forgotten he existed. But that’s not surprising considering she just had an insanely romantic kiss with a guy she met less than two hours ago. Somehow, she feels like they’ve known each other forever even if she doesn’t know his last name. 

The man says something in french and, to the delight of the butterflies, Rhys replies back in perfect french. When she asks what they said, though, Rhys just winks at her. 

“Come on Feyre, darling, I have a date tonight who I want to impress and I’d hate to be late.” 

She bursts into a fit of giggles as they walk along the street towards the small restaurant, hand in hand. Paris really is a magical place.


End file.
